


A Happy Day Plagued With Uncontrollable Melancholy

by certifiedtragedy



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Don't @ Me, Gen, One Shot, Peter Parker has PTSD, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Wow angst, avengers: endgame prediction kind of, he became sort of a mute, listen idk how tagging works, literally just angst, our boy is graduating :')), people need to fuck off and leave him alone, peter is a depressed boi, spiderman: far from home prediction, teen and up because of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-17 20:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16981668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/certifiedtragedy/pseuds/certifiedtragedy
Summary: The loved ones of the graduates sat at the back, and by luck, he caught the eye of May in the sea of many. May wore a tearful grin and looked ready to mimic the way her heart jumped into her throat. He ignored the empty seat beside her, squashed down the void that contradictorily pulsed in his chest.





	A Happy Day Plagued With Uncontrollable Melancholy

Peter was late for his own graduation ceremony. He landed heavily into a shack on the outskirts of his high school’s campus and practically ripped his Spiderman suit off. He sighed in relief when he spotted the dark ceremonial robe and the Oxford cap properly folded on a broken stool. He shrugged it on and wobbled his way towards the front row of seats. Just as he sat down and drew strange glances, his name was called and he glanced back on the stage to see his certificate in hand.

 

 _‘Wow,’_ He thought, ‘ _I just can’t catch a break can I?’_ He ignored a small guilt-ridden voice that answered.

 

He heaved a breath and made his way upstage, taking his time to ensure he won’t trip on the long cloth dragging beneath him and embarrassing himself. He turned to eye the audience members below. The loved ones of the graduates sat at the back, and by luck, he caught the eye of May in the sea of many. May wore a tearful grin and looked ready to mimic the way her heart jumped into her throat. He ignored the empty seat beside her, squashed down the void that contradictorily pulsed in his chest. Suddenly, all joy and anticipation of leaving the school that he’s been tormented in for so long had evaporated. The legs that dragged him to meet the principle on the stand felt like blocks of wood, and his arms felt like poorly constructed limbs, built purposely without joints. He didn’t remember when he arrived in front of the school’s head.

 

The principal grinned at him, oblivious to his inner turmoil and offered his hands, a certificate in one, and an empty fake handshake in another. Peter wordlessly took both. The principal turned toward the audience, smiling at the flashing lights and the captured images of cameras. Peter smiled. He wanted to dig a knife into his skull.

 

The ceremony ended and the former students crowded the grass, hugging moved classmates and proud parents. Peter met with May by her seats. May talked. Peter listened. May enveloped him in a hug and told him it was okay. Peter couldn’t remember what it felt like to speak. He wanted to claw his heart into his hand and squeeze the life out of each beat.

 

An extra voice joined their space. The rando took the seat beside May. It was supposedly reserved for his mentor, but this fucktard took it. May laid a calming hand on Peter.

 

“Uhm, excuse me. That seat is reserved.”

 

The bastard scoffed, “Yeah, and whoever this seat’s for didn’t show up. I’m tired and this chair was gonna go to waste anyway.”

 

Peter didn’t have the energy to be angry. The dick was right. He didn’t show up. He should’ve been here. He would’ve been so proud. Peter didn’t have the energy to break down and cry. So he just stared.

 

“What?” The stranger was starting to grow nervous under Peter’s unfaltering stoic gaze.

 

 _‘As he should,’_ Peter mentally added on. Peter bore into his eyes before a raspy voice escaped him. He didn’t recognize it as his own, but May would later try to convince him otherwise. “Get off.”

 

Suddenly, the arsehole was pulled off by a fellow graduate, wearing a dark robe decorated with personal stickers. One of the popular kids then.

 

“Sorry,” She chuckled uneasily, obviously noticing the gloomy tension, “My brother can be a bit of a dick. I’m sorry whoever was gonna come didn't show up.”

 

May didn't look like she was going to let him go, but Peter shook his head in forgiveness. He wanted to leave. No point in making a big deal out of it. He watched the turned backs of the two siblings meet up with two older adults. The older man ruffled her hair and she made a high pitched noise that travelled back to his own area. Peter’s own heart lurched at the sight. Uncle Ben… Mr.—He wanted to throw up.

 

“Hey, Parker.” MJ entered his vision. Ned trailed after her.

 

“Hey, Peter.”

 

The edges of Peter’s eyes softened in greetings.

 

“Hey Ned, MJ.” Peter croaked out. Ned’s eyes widened.

 

“Dude! I knew you could do it!”

 

MJ flashed a grin and gave his arm a punch. Peter tried a chuckle but all that came out was an uneasy wheeze.

 

“Don’t get discouraged. You want us to go with you later?” Ned questioned.

 

May squeezed his shoulder in comfort. She silently asked him the same question.

 

“We can all go together.”

 

Peter shook his head and immediately opened his mouth to explain. He ended the stupid attempt the moment it began, unable to find the right words.

 

“No hard feelings.” MJ nodded.

 

Peter gave her a grateful smile. He did nothing to deserve the friends he had now. In fact, he wanted the opposite. He _deserved_ the opposite—

 

“Meet you two there,” May said farewell to Ned and MJ. The goodbyes ended in a blur. It wasn't really goodbye. Peter knew Ned and MJ would do everything they can to stay in contact with him. He felt strange, having a bit of the cold stiffness in him chip away and replaced with warmth.

 

The iron rusted gates arrived. It opened and they drove through. Peter watched the familiar trees, growing out of all the wrong places crawl by. When May finally parked the car nearby, Peter climbed out by himself.

 

“Remember to give me the O.K!” May called after him as he shut the door.

 

Peter nodded and let his feet guide him in a too well-known path to a too well-known grave. He didn't notice he was still in his robe until he contemplated to sit on the graveyard grass. He decided to sit. His Oxford cap slid off and he fiddled with it in his hands before capping it on the gravestone.

 

Peter visited the grave 5 times, and that was 5 too many times for his liking. Each time didn't become less painful than the last. It felt wrong, seeing his name engraved in stone like so many others. Soon to be claimed, lost in history, forgotten in minds, washed away by the rhythms of time itself.

 

Peter remembered every single second of being put back together. The opposite of dusting away, it felt cozy, fulfilling, and it felt like coming home. It would've felt heavenly if he didn’t have to see what it was that brought him back. Mr.Stark's corpse. His idol, his hero, his mentor, his—his wrangled corpse, burned, scarred, left sizzling on the dirt ground of Titan's dead pulses beneath him.

 

He knew what Mr. Stark wanted for him. Colonel Rhodes and Ms. Potts repeated it to him too many times. Mr. Stark wanted him to be happy and to do what he loved doing best. He hated when Peter said sorry for things he didn’t do, taking responsibility for happenings that wasn’t his fault. Peter often wondered if it was because Mr. Stark spent so much of his life doing the same. Well, that and saving people. He knew that wasn’t something Mr. Stark liked doing, but something he felt like he had to do. It really wasn’t fair, was it? His mentor was the one who brought back half the universe, carrying the weight of 6 Infinity Stones in his hands. Literally. Why was Mr. Stark the one who had to do it? Why was Mr. Stark the one who had to be cursed with knowledge? A childish voice told him it wasn't fair. Nothing was fucking fair. Nothing was—

 

Peter’s eyes refocused onto the name of the grave in front of him. It grounded him back into reality. Cursed reality.

 

Peter felt a hysterical laughter bubbling up in his chest. He almost said sorry to the tombstone for letting his mind drift.

 

 _‘I didn’t come here to brood,’_ Peter reassured the empty life in front of him, ‘ _I came here to celebrate. With you. I know you dropped multiple hints for me to go to MIT but I decided otherwise. Sorry—’_

 

Peter caught himself. He made it his life goal. To stop shouldering all the blame for himself. There was one thing Peter was firmly certain about. He was  _not_ going to go out the same way he was brought back. Apologizing.

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank my friends, Mia and Moon, for catching my terrible grammar mistakes 😭 <33
> 
> Criticisms are very welcome!!


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